Civility and Humanity
by summerartist
Summary: Doctor Bashir and Garak are sent to a Federation planet to assist with a relief effort. The Cardassian soon realizes that not all is well with the doctor. Warning for descriptions of disease and suicide ideation
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: !Warning for descriptions of disease and suicide ideation!

This fic is in the pre-slash genre, but you can read this even if you aren't into shipping. It's more about mercy, compassion, and kindness when things go wrong. Early season five timeframe

* * *

><p><em>Elim held Julian close. The human was shivering.<em>

_The doctor spoke again. It was one word in the form of a question. Simple speech was still giving him difficulties._

_"Why?"_

_Garak pondered over what Julian was trying to ask. Why was life like this? Why did their friends abandon them? Why was Garak doing this? The Cardassian did not know the answer to any of these questions. For once in his life, he could not even think up a convincing lie to tell the doctor. _

3 weeks earlier

"Doctor, I wish to speak with you." Captain Sisko called to Doctor Bashir.

It was a relatively slow day at Ops. Most of the senior staff was gone. Kira and Jadzia had traveled to Bajor for leave, Miles was in the depths of the station fixing a docking platform, and Odo was transporting a prisoner into Romulan space. Sisko had summoned Bashir to Ops in a serious tone that caused vague alarm to run through him. Was there a private emergency situation? Had Sisko finally found out the secret of his intellect? Bashir silently chastised himself for his paranoia. It would do no good to speculate yet, and the captain did not seem angry.

The doctor followed Sisko up the stairs to his office. Sisko shut the door behind the doctor. He stood near the desk, maintaining eye contact with his CMO.

"There's been a change of plans. Dax won't be back by tomorrow. A political situation came up on Bajor that required her and the Major's assistance."

Bashir nodded. It was hardly surprising that the two officers had been needed on Bajor. Major Kira constantly had dealings with the government, and Dax lived up to her reputation as a good friend by helping the Major.

"Do I get the Chief to accompany me to Ferris VI?" Bashir tried not to sound too hopeful.

It was a lonely trip in a runabout with no one to talk to, not to mention how he could do with an assistant should his trip hit a rough patch. Ferris VI was a backwater planet and it had few resources. The dominant species had not even achieved space travel yet. The atmosphere was rampant with volatile molecules that rejected the use of scanners and most other medical equipment. The civil war between the Altanians had devastated their population. They were a Federation world, so the planet was going to receive the assistance that the Federation could provide. The Altanians had sent word through the Cardassian trade routes of their plight.

"O'Brien is needed here as one of my remaining senior staff members. You know procedure." Sisko said sharply.

Bashir quickly nodded. He knew that he could not deprive Sisko of his Chief Engineer.

"I was hoping that you would take someone with you that would be an even greater asset on Ferris VI."

Bashir was frowning. "But sir, the majority of my medical staff is Bajoran. It would take a week to properly inoculate them from many of the diseases on Ferris VI and we don't have that kind of time. I would rather go alone than risk spreading Altanian diseases to the Bajoran population."

Sisko walked over to his desk and sat down, gesturing to the empty chair on the other side. Bashir perched himself on the seat with a puzzled expression.

"Would you be able to bring a Cardassian?"

Bashir considered. "Yes, I might be able to. They are more naturally immune to non-native diseases and the Altanians respect Cardassians for their trade."

Understanding dawned on Julian and his eyes widened. "You want me to bring Garak? But he's a civilian and he isn't exactly the most charitable man, especially in these kinds of conditions."

Sisko raised an eyebrow. "Be that as it may, we've used his skills before in Federation relief efforts. He'll just have to grin and bear it."

Bashir nearly laughed in response to the mental image that presented. "Perhaps I should just go by myself. I can manage a runabout and I really wouldn't have a use for him, at least not in a medical sense."

Sisko sighed, picking up the baseball resting on the desk. He spun the ball between his fingertips. The threads were starting to fray and the white surface of the object was darkening from continuous use on the holosuite fields.

"You'll be in unfamiliar territory. He should be able to give you at least a general idea of Ferris VI's culture. It would give a good impression if the Federation was seen working alongside the Cardassians." Sisko squeezed the ball and tossed it from side to side.

"I'll do my best to convince him to come, sir." Bashir smiled faintly.

"I won't detain you any longer from packing your equipment." Sisko threw the baseball up into the air and caught it absent-mindedly.

"Yes. Thank you, sir." Bashir stood and exited the Captain's office looking pensive.

Just how was he going to persuade Garak to come along? Sisko was right about having Cardassians represented along with the Federation was positive to the political scheme of things. Maybe there was some form of bribery or intellectual intrigue he could offer. Perhaps Bashir could drive home the point of how bored the Cardassian would be if he remained on the station while Bashir explored the Alpha Quadrant. Either way, he had better prepare for an interesting trip. He had been tired recently, and having a stimulating conversationalist along could tire him out before he even set foot on the planet.

Captain Benjamin Sisko had noticed Bashir's lack of stamina, but he had told the young man nothing about his observations. Bashir was looking pale and slouched recently. It was partly why the Captain had sent the doctor with a companion. Leaving Bashir alone for two weeks on a planet with a crowd of ill and wounded patients was unwise. Julian had the tendency to overwork himself. Dax was usually appointed as the honorary doctor watcher, but now Garak would have to fulfill that role as adequately as possible.

* * *

><p>"The captain would like me to accompany you?" The Cardassian had been baffled.<p>

"Yes, for political reasons mostly, and if I run into trouble."

Bashir had entered Garak's shop that evening to ask him to go on the journey. Garak had been folding some new cloth shipments until Julian interrupted him.

"I am flattered by the consideration I have garnered from both of you, but it is the season of high tides on Bajor and my clothing is in demand. I would miss the primary season of my business." The Cardassian replied shortly.

"It would be an adventure. You haven't had one for a while." Bashir enticed him.

"I am past the age of thirsting for action, dear doctor. Adventures are for the youthful." Garak gave him a patient smile.

"You don't want to come? Not even for a little while?" Bashir frowned, eyes wide in their entreating look.

"The question is would you want me to accompany you?"

Bashir appeared confused. "Well, that's what I came here to tell you. I'm not just asking you because of my orders. I've always enjoyed your company."

The Cardassian shot him a warm smile and abruptly turned to adjust an outfit on a nearby mannequin. "Then I will meet you on the runabout tomorrow at 0700."

"All right." Bashir had been surprised with how easy this persuasion tactic had gone.

The doctor made to walk out of the cozy little shop when Garak said something that stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh, and doctor, do get some sleep. You look as though you need it." The strangely sentimental statement caused Bashir to pause and blink dazedly.

That kind of concern was unheard of coming from Garak. Julian must look dreadful to illicit that much worry from the tailor. The doctor quickly nodded.

"I'll be sure to." Julian strode out and went back to his quarters to finish packing.

* * *

><p>"One would think that you were the Cardassian, shivering like that." Garak remarked teasingly as the doctor piloted the runabout.<p>

Bashir gave him a fleeting smile. "It's very cold in here. I'm surprised you aren't complaining."

Garak shrugged. "For once the temperature is nearly ideal. I think you might, as humans say, be coming down with something."

The doctor frowned, typing in the next set of coordinates. Now that the tailor mentioned it, he felt shivery as though he was feeling the onset of a cold. His genetic enhancements protected him from general viruses, but maybe something had managed to slip past his remarkable immune system.

"I think you might be right. For the sake of saving runabout power I'll get a coat. Keep a lookout." Bashir leveled himself up, stretching.

As Bashir went to go find the jackets in the back of the runabout, he noticed Garak's bulk of luggage. It looked as though he had brought half of his tailoring shop with him, or at least a quarter. The heap of clothes and fabric ranged from the exotic to the mundanely practical. Frowning with confusion, Bashir joined Garak after locating and obtaining a heavy coat. He put it on and sat down. After making some adjustments to their thrusters he let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Are you making a delivery stop somewhere or were you just feeling like giving charitable donations?"

The Cardassian considered. It was with a whimsical thoughtlessness that he brought a good portion of his merchandise along. At the time it had seemed practical. He was going to a war torn planet and war meant that people were desperate for basic resources, including clothing. His own generosity had caught him by surprise.

"I can be sensitive to tragedy and needs of others, doctor." Garak said casually.

Bashir attempted to mollify him. "I never said anything to the contrary."

The Cardassian shook himself at his martyr-like attitude. He had to remind himself that the doctor was a mellow being, and not a Cardassian agent that would twist his words. Sometimes Bashir put him in a defensive frame of mind, and he sensed that the doctor occasionally felt the same way.

Now was not to the time to dwell on their differences. Garak decided that they needed some peace and quiet. The next few hours passed like a dream, craft streaming past stars in the vastness of space. Bashir silently monitored their craft while Garak worked with something on his PADD. Near the end of the journey, Garak had gotten up to get them tea. Julian had smiled gratefully as he took the steaming hot beverage from his hands.

They entered the planet's atmosphere with little fuss, confirming their Federation clearance code and letting the Altanian government scan their ship. Ferris VI looked much like Cardassia and it had many of the same geological features. The terrain was generally desert with a few ranges of mountains and some low areas of shrubbery. It was close to the star in the system, therefore it had regular high temperatures. Thankfully, many of the best medical facilities were on cooler expanses of land.

Bashir's and Garak's arrival had been prepared for long ago. The Federation had rented a small suite of rooms for them. Bashir's reputation had preceded him and they received a warm welcome from the Altanians when they docked in a hovercar zone. The Altanians had not yet achieved space travel, which meant that there was no comfortable spot to leave their runabout. The atmosphere would not allow Bashir to vacate the vessel in orbit.

A well-dressed Altanian greeted them upon arrival. They were similar to Cardassians in looks. They kept their long black hair slicked back and their skin tones ranged from orange to light violet. They had ridges that twisted into spirals on their face and their mouths were more snout-like than any of the other humanoid species in the alpha quadrant. Their eyes were dark, sometimes with flecks of gold in their irises.

"Greetings. I am nurse K'latha from the Alt'ratha medical facility. I was assigned to show you where you will be staying. The suite of rooms is as close to the facility as possible." The being spoke in a lilting voice. Bashir had a hard time determining if this was an Altanian with a set gender or one of the Altanian hermaphrodites. Hermaphrodites were more common in their species.

Bashir tried to address the nurse with more conversation. The being was already leading the way to their quarters. He had read that Altanians were overly concise and to the point, so he tried to find out more information before they were unceremoniously dropped off.

"Hello! I'm Doctor Julian Bashir and this is my friend Elim Garak. May I ask a few questions about your facility and the patients? How long have you been working there?"

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have been working there for three Larthians." The being said snippily.

"Larthians?"

"24 Ra'tap."

Bashir frowned ponderingly at Garak, but the Cardassian looked just as clueless. The universal translator was stubbornly refusing to translate the names that measured the increments of time.

They were led away to a more populated part of the town where they had docked. The buildings were short and primitive. The housing was made out of temporary materials like wood and straw. Yet, there were accents of metal on rooftops and randomized technological equipment. There was an abundance of Cardassian technology, including communicators and security devices. There were technological gaming spots that looked to be frequented by the locals. It was a curious mix of old and new. The terrain was fine-pebbled with plexi-glass and faux metal streets. Bashir wondered what they were made out of to be in large quantities but retain their cool temperature.

He and Garak were shown to a wood and metal building that looked like a perfect square on the exterior. There were large oval windows and a small window box of flowers that accented the structure.

"I will allow you to explore the inside. If it is unsatisfactory, please inform Doctor Rutak of the situation." The alien turned to leave them and started walking away.

Bashir shouted after K'latha. "It looks fine, thank you! It was a pleasure to meet you."

They heard K'latha grumble something unintelligible back as the being left them.

"They don't waste time do they?" Bashir murmured to Garak.

"It would appear not. Cardassians are familiar with their short attention span. They try to speak as little as possible and avoid being spoken to. They prefer to communicate through actions."

"Oh." Bashir appeared crestfallen.

Garak gave him an amused smirk. "Don't worry, doctor. You have me to socialize with. Luckily for you, I never tire of your voice."

Bashir smiled. "Shall we go investigate our temporary abode?"

The Starfleet officer and Cardassian opened the door to their accommodations.

"Funny. There doesn't seem to be a locking mechanism." Bashir investigated the door as he pulled it open.

The doctor was startled to note something cold touching his hand. Garak had reached out and pressed a strong detachable locking mechanism into his palm.

"Like I said, doctor, the Cardassians know the Altanians. Come without a lock, and the quarters you rent will eventually be cleared out by looters. It's fortunate that the windows are built well above ground."

Bashir frowned over the information before he surveyed the interior of the small house. It managed to look just like an old rustic Terran cabin. The only thing out of place was the replicator. It was of Cardassian manufacture. There appeared to be one living space with two bedrooms and one watercloset. It was cozy and sparsely furnished. There was one couch and two chairs with a tiny coffee table. The bedrooms each had one bed and one end table that supported an old-fashioned lamp.

Bashir whistled. "It's a good thing I brought books and a PADD. It looks like off-duty activities are rather limited."

"It's efficient if nothing else. Though I have to say that their décor or lack thereof gives the Federation a run for its money. Modernism is atrocious. Such stark nakedness everywhere-and not a bit of color! Even your Terran Modernists would be appalled." Garak said disapprovingly.

"Well, we're here to help, not criticize the accommodations. I'm glad that we didn't have to share with others. Now I don't have to worry about doctors getting worked up because you shed your scales all over the floor." Bashir set his bags on the table, wrestling with his medical equipment.

Garak gave a huff of annoyance at the vaguely insulting but accurate statement. He was known to shed his scales at inopportune moments and in locations where the scales blended in with the tiling. They were often left undiscovered until someone stepped on them. Bashir had compared the odd sensation of treading on his dead scales to stepping on shards of plastic.

Julian was testing his tricorder. The device would not switch on. Next, he tried a laser scalpel with the same result. His small basic tricorder gave a strange squeal and abruptly died.

"Ah, so they were right about certain medical scanners not reacting well to the molecular structure of the atmosphere. The abundance of subnavian particles in the air doesn't allow for micro-scanning or heat lasers. The internal organ regenerator will have difficulties too."

"Then let us hope that you still remember your basic first aid without the tools to help." Garak said teasingly.

The doctor shot him a grumpy look. He knew that Garak was baiting him.

"I'd better go report. I'll probably be busy all evening."

Garak nodded. He knew that this would not be similar to a vacation, despite his friendly company. Yet, the doctor was not his usual chipper self and he was starting to act irritable. Perhaps the human was hungry. He became downright hostile when he felt starved, and Bashir had neglected to consume anything other than tea today. However, it was not Garak's place to remind him to eat. He got comfortable on the couch and started unpacking.

"Aren't you coming?" Bashir slung a bag of functional and basic first aid material over his shoulder.

"Not unless I wanted to have hospital duty. I've been in enough crowded medical facilities to know that anyone with a strong back is inevitably coerced into carrying equipment. It would be more beneficial to both of us if I were to scout out the changes among the citizens and the housing after the civil war."

Bashir nodded. As usual, Garak's observations were a clear insight to their surroundings. Garak would be more useful getting to know and socialize with the locals. Now all Bashir had to worry about was doing his duty. With sagging shoulders, he stepped out with his satchel of medicines. He felt exhausted, but alas, work beckoned.


	2. Chapter 2

Bashir arrived back late in the evening. Garak was already there to let him in after his information gathering escapades. Normally, Julian would have launched into discussion about Garak's findings with him, but he was not in the mood.

Bashir swept by him to sit down on the couch in the living quarters. The strong scent of human blood filled Garak's nostrils and the Cardassian could almost taste the iron in the air. He would have to admit some surprise. Bashir believed in maintaining maximum cleanliness and he was hardly one to let himself carry around traces of his patients' blood. It must have soaked into some part of his dark clothing.

"Have you had many surgeries today?" Garak asked casually.

The doctor shrugged. "There are always surgeries. I mostly had to tend to broken bones. It was positively barbaric switching to splinting with branches after using the bone mender."

Garak sensed something unspoken in his words. "Barbaric? How barbaric did this become? You look quite worn, doctor."

Julian glanced up at him curiously before he picked up a book to read that he had left out on the coffee table. "It was just surgery that I could use our limited machinery with. I didn't do any incisions, if that's what you're asking."

"Then, pardon me, but why do you reek of blood?"

Bashir looked a strange mix of horrified and embarrassed.

"Oh, I forgot about your strong olfactory senses. I'll go shower." The doctor set down his mystery novel and stood, heading to the watercloset.

"Doctor-"Garak began hesitantly.

"Yes?"

There was no denying that the Cardassian was curious about the event. Still, Bashir seemed determined to leave the incident unexplained. Garak was nothing if not polite to his acquaintances and friends, yet the thought of the doctor in danger was enough to cause him to overlook Bashir's wish for silence. This occurrence prompted him to submit a concerned inquiry.

"If there was something that could be assisted with, you would notify someone?" It was an honest and open question.

Bashir gave him a soft smile. "Yes I swear it, Garak. I have it handled."

"There is no need to swear or make a promise... there is also nothing immediately pressing I have to share with you. The information I gathered can wait." He could sense that the doctor actually did want to bathe now that he had thought about it.

Bashir had nodded and he walked quickly over to the watercloset. He shut the door and started the showerhead. Ferris VI had fresh water to enjoy, though Elim noticed that Bashir cut his shower short. He was likely saving the majority of hot water for Garak. The tailor had spent most of his life rationing water whilst on Cardassia and the station. Julian knew how much he valued it. As ever, the doctor was considerate of him.

The Cardassian eyed the closed door ponderingly. What had Bashir been determined to keep hidden about the blood? None of the theories he came up with lead to the conclusion of Bashir maintaining a healthy body or mind. Bashir came out of the shower in a sleek blue satin robe. It was one of Garak's designs and the fabric suited him charmingly. Garak pretended to read while he surveyed him over his PADD. The Cardassian could not see a mark on his skin. Seating himself again with his book, the doctor eyed the Cardassian in turn.

"Well…?"

Garak simply looked at him.

"What did you find out? Oh damn-" The doctor started coughing. Bashir's face was lined with pain. "You know what? You can tell me in the morning. I think I'd better get some sleep to discourage this bug."

The tailor nodded. "That would be a wise course of action. Sleep well, doctor."

"You too, Garak." Bashir got up and teetered over in the direction of his sparse bedroom. He keyed the door open and all was silent again.

The Cardassian did not hear from him for an hour. He assumed that the doctor was asleep, but that was until Bashir rushed to the bathroom and shut the door with a snap. Elim gazed up quizzically. He really should have minded his own business, but the thin walls could not mask the sound of the doctor's cough. The young man hacked and choked at intervals. Garak internally winced and swallowed thickly. Bashir was vomiting.

When Julian walked out of the fresher he gave Garak a sheepish smile and slinked back to his room. The smile had been a faint turn up of the corners of his mouth, silently telling him: _I'll be okay. Don't worry about it_. Garak tipped him a nod and said nothing. He chose to respect his privacy this time, for he would have wanted the same.

Bashir went back to bed and Garak got up to turn in as well. After walking around all day and then sitting there stiffly, he had to crack his back as he rose. His double spine made two snapping noises as he stretched. He plodded back to his sparse room and shut the door. He paused, expression thoughtful. The Cardassian entered a code that left the door ajar a crack and he dressed in his nightclothes and slipped into bed. Huffing out a tired breath, he lay there listening. Julian had gone quiet again. Surrounded by nothing but white walls and a small bedside table, Garak soon grew tired of scanning his surroundings. His fatigue caused him to shut his eyes and he drifted off.

Cardassians did not dream, a trait for which Elim Garak was eternally grateful. Cardassian minds were so exact and vivid that dreaming could theoretically be a disconcerting scenario. The same curious inability also protected his species from psychological attack or even the light mind prodding of a Betazoid.

When he was woken during the night he was not wrenched from any twilight fantasies. He awoke with clarity. He heard his young companion's light tread on the flooring. He also heard sniffling noises, as though the doctor was suffering from nasal congestion or he was crying. Thankfully, it sounded like the former. He heard Bashir walk back to his room clumsily from the facilities. He bumped into the couch and swore under his breath.

Elim found his mouth quirking into a smile. It had been a while since he had cohabitated a space with someone. He had not remembered it being so amusing. He had gotten to know Bashir's odd quirks during this trip better than the time spent on the station. Yet, there was something about these oddities of the doctor's that did not ring as normal human traits. Was Bashir always this tired and fogged after work? If so, the man desperately needed a vacation and his workload lightened. He was genetically engineered, and yet he was suffering more acutely from sleeplessness than a regular human being. Sighing, Garak shifted around in bed and awaited the dawn of the twin suns along with some understanding about the unique human augment.

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><p>The Cardassian greeted the morning with a vague feeling of uneasiness. He dressed and slicked back his hair with scentless oil. He exited his room to attend to his hygiene in the shared facilities. He cleaned his teeth and oiled off his loose scales. As he discarded the dead scales in the disposal unit, a bright color on the tiling caught his eye. A streak of red liquid was drying in the corner of the room. The doctor was the only being on Ferris VI that had red blood. The only conclusion he could come to was that Bashir had cut himself while shaving (which was unlikely, considering his Federation standard service razor) or he was suffering from the same malady that had plagued him last evening.<p>

The Cardassian had narrowed it down to several causes. It was possible that Bashir had a small injury somewhere and Garak's senses had kicked into overdrive when he had smelled the blood. It occasionally happened when he had not picked up a scent for a long stretch of time. It was also possible that the doctor was secretly helping another human and he had been sloppy with his medical care. Needless to say, that was the least likely explanation. Bashir had not displayed any outward symptoms of pain besides flu-like coughing and nausea. Garak trusted that the doctor had the situation well in hand, but he was becoming more aware that he would have to intrude on Bashir's privacy soon.

Elim wiped up the crimson fluid with a moist towel and disposed of it. He had learned long ago that cleaning up evidence of injury or weakness helped protect the weakened individual from others who would exploit his disadvantage. He finished the rest of his routine and he quickly entered their shared living space to find his young friend up and refreshed. The doctor was wolfing down eggs with scones and jam. _At least his appetite has returned_, Garak thought. Julian sat on the couch with a plate casually in his lap. Elim felt oddly flattered that Bashir was familiar enough with him to break subtle rules of convention.

Garak ordered a fish breakfast stew from the replicator. The doctor wrinkled his nose in regards to the strange Cardassian cuisine, but said nothing besides the usual morning greeting. They ate in relative silence while they shook off the sleepy feeling in their limbs. Garak lost himself in thoughts about what he had learned from the locals yesterday and occasional wistfulness about Mila. His mother would have liked to hear of his trip. She possessed an innate curiosity for Cardassia's neighboring planets without any real inclination to visit. He would have taken holo-photographs for her of the landscape and of the people. Would she have enjoyed this bleak but picturesque atmosphere?

Bashir dropped his fork, startling Garak out of his unusually light-hearted revere. He glanced up to find that the doctor had only managed to eat half of his breakfast. The portions had come in their smallest serving size.

"So, what did you learn yesterday?"

"Don't you have to return to work soon?" Garak reminded him.

"Soon." Bashir acknowledged. "But not just yet. I have time to hear about what you saw yesterday."

"Very well." Garak pushed aside the remains of his stew for a moment. "The majority of the populace is living in temporary housing or using housing facilities. The orphanages are crowded, but sanitary. However, the children are in desperate need of less threadbare clothing. Altanian aggression has significantly simmered down. There were no radical groups remaining to terrorize anyone. In short, dear doctor, this planet is safe once more. However, petty theft is alarmingly common."

Bashir nodded. "In other words, guard the replicator?"

"Precisely."

Bashir got up to dispose of his dishware along with the remains of his breakfast. The Cardassian watched this with a frown.

"_Now_ it's time to go to work." Julian said brightly. "I-why are you glaring at me like that?" He paused to gaze at his friend.

"Glaring?" Elim said innocently.

"Yes, you were giving me an evil eye there a moment ago. Did I leave a mess?"

The Cardassian shook his head. "Not that I've noticed."

The doctor crossed his arms and stood by the replicator.

Garak sighed. "What is it, doctor?"

"I wish you'd tell me what I've done. I haven't seen that much disapproval from you since that fist fight last month in your shop."

Garak had looked unnervingly angry just a moment ago, and the doctor determined to find out why. It was the same look he had given when two combatants had nearly shredded a priceless dress in his shop window.

"One would think that ripping a display gown was a heinous crime."

Garak smiled. "Do you really think I give any thought to my creations being harmed? I destroyed my own shop, doctor. I sacrifice my works readily because I can always start anew. One would almost call it a refreshing experience."

Bashir thought back to the past event. Two aliens had gotten into a dangerous scuffle about a marital affair. Elim had managed to calmly separate them, but he noticed that the Bolian had fractured the Bajoran's eye socket. The tailor had done the sensible thing and called for Bashir and security.

Unfortunately, the doctor had arrived on the scene first. Before the tailor could intervene, the Bajoran had pushed Bashir hard against a bulkhead. Julian had been in the midst of treating him and he had no time to defend himself before he was shoved with considerable force into the unforgiving metal. He had seen a flash of light and then he had dropped like a stone.

Garak loomed over the perpetrators of the fight with a deadly aura. The two scrambled. Keen calculation and frustration had lingered in his gaze as he had helped Bashir off the floor and felt the developing goose egg on the back of the doctor's head. Bashir remembered all of this with the vivid clarity his genetic enhancements had given him. He looked back on the memory with new insight.

"You were worried about me? That Bajoran didn't push me that hard."

For a moment, Garak looked almost pained. "You have forgotten how different your human biology must seem to me. Cadassians don't fear head injury as acutely as humans do. I know that your skull is significantly weaker than mine. The sound your head made as it rebounded off that bulkhead was…most alarming."

Bashir looked baffled with the sudden sentiment."It was only a minor impact. It takes a lot more force to do brain damage. I'm not made of glass you know."

The doctor suddenly realized that their conversation had gone on longer than he had been expecting. He fumbled with his medical kit, putting his equipment in order.

"You'll have to tell me why you were glaring at me some other time. Are you certain that you don't want to come?" Julian hurriedly offered.

"I'll leave the art of healing in your capable hands, doctor. I have clothing to distribute."

Bashir nodded. "To the orphanages? I'm sure they'll be pleased." He sounded genuine. "I'll see you later."

As he walked out the door, the thought occurred to the doctor that Garak had looked irritable at breakfast for the same reason he had been infuriated during the incident at Garak's Clothiers a month ago. He was worried, exceedingly worried about Julian.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The diseases discussed in this chapter are real. However, the treatments are not recommended. Everyone has different reactions and the symptoms vary for these types of illnesses. There is no cure.

* * *

><p>Garak did not follow his human companion. The doctor was exceptional at his work, and Garak trusted that he was taking care of himself to the best of his abilities. However, that did not mean that he could not watch the human closely when he was in his company. Julian wanted to continue helping the Altanian population and Garak would not deter him from that. At least, not until he had proof that the doctor was endangering himself. For now, he would watch and wait.<p>

After dropping off some essential clothing items to the caretakers of the orphanages, he went to socialize among the people. The Altanians were as quiet and short with him as always, but he could sense them warming up to his presence. He was browsing one of their open farming markets in hopes that he could find someone of his own species or at least a talkative human. The market place was wide open with clear skies and with the smell of fruit, grains, and natural delicacies in the air. Garak inhaled and gave a contented hum. At times like this he was reminded closely of Cardassia. Perhaps if his position was never reinstated on his home planet, Ferris VI would consider taking in a Cardassian citizen. At any rate, it was better than that space station.

He heard a loud voice converse with a farmer. The being was much too generous and he paid extravagantly for what sounded to be a vessel of seed oil. Garak watched the alien out of the corner of his eye and then turned his head when he saw who it was. What was Bashir doing at this market? He held a bag in his hands. Nothing visible poked of it and he kept the bag rolled shut. The doctor happily took his bottle, thanking the Altanian farmer warmly.

Garak slinked up silently behind him. "Running off from work, doctor? That's not like you."

Bashir jumped. The bottle of amber oil dropped from his hand. Garak deftly caught the container. The Altanian farmer watched the charade with a weary expression as the tailor and the doctor fumbled with the bottle. Garak relinquished it to Julian, who hastily stuffed it in his bag.

The Cardassian eyed him ponderingly. "Seed oil can be replicated into food."

Bashir raised an eyebrow at his meddling companion. "Yes, but I wanted to get it fresh. It's more beneficial to body health in non-replicated form like this...and I'm on lunch break. I came out here to pick up grocery items and check on the runabout."

Bashir started walking in the direction of where their runabout was secured. Elim followed him.

"What a coincidence. I was about to check on the runabout myself."

They kept a friendly closeness to each other in the marketplace. Garak and Bashir watched Altanian children interestedly as they walked by. Julian missed the fond smile that flitted over the tailor's features for a moment.

"Such a charming group of children. Their species is quite diverse. Even the farmers have all different colors and genders. That one selling you that oil was a most unusual dusky orange. Are you considering taking up farming, doctor, or were you simply sampling local cuisine?"

Bashir shrugged. "I just wanted to try a few things."

As the doctor turned towards him, Elim noticed that he smelled fragrant. He leaned in ever so slightly towards Bashir and sniffed. The doctor took a step backwards. Cadassia's culture did not seem to find the act of visibly sniffing someone as strange.

"What an interesting fragrance. Were you with someone wearing perfume?"

Julian shook his head. "No. I've been with Altanian patients all day and they never wear scents."

"Hmmm. Perhaps you came in contact with flowers then. Though I have to say I haven't come across that particular scent. It's cloyingly sweet with a hint of bitterness."

Garak had first thought that he was carrying the scent of some exotic lily or wildflower, but the salty acidic undertone of the fragrance did not match anything he was familiar with.

"Oh."

"Cleverly phrased, doctor. Would you care to explain the nature of that neutral acknowledgement?" Garak asked mildly.

"You're describing the smell of a minor infection."

"How distasteful." The tailor mumbled. "I assume that you're using the seed oil to somehow treat your infection?"

"_M-my_ infection?" Bashir stammered.

"Doctor, do you think that I haven't noticed?" Garak started to chide him. "I have observed your pain, lack of appetite, and nausea. One can only hope that this illness won't develop further by refusing treatment and resorting to ineffectual remedies."

"Refusing treatment! Oh that's rich coming from you. I-" Julian halted his words and his pace abruptly.

Elim had stopped walking too. Where the runabout once stood was an empty space with nothing more than rocks and ground glass. It was though the entire spacecraft had been snatched away by a gust of wind or by some omniscient force.

"It's gone." Julian's jaw dropped. "But it had a protective forcefield, various password locks, and an alerting system. There is no conceivable way that anyone could get within a foot of it."

"It seems as though the crafty Altanians have found a way." Garak said dryly.

Color gradually leeched away from the doctor's face as the significance of the theft sunk in.

"My God." He breathed. "The Prime Directive…"

Garak made what sounded like a graceless snort. "If you're worried about Altanians achieving space travel or teleportation then you may put your mind at ease. The Altanians rarely try to advance themselves as a culture. It's much more likely that they tore it apart for scrap metal and salvaged our survival gear."

The doctor sank to his knees, uttering several Federation standard swear words that made Garak's universal translator scramble to find the obscure meanings. The tailor looked down at his crouched position curiously. Bashir what not what he would call an overdramatic human being. Something about this incident must have shaken his companion.

He tried to sound nonchalant. "Courage, doctor. It's only a runabout. At least it wasn't the Defiant."

Julian directed a sharp look up at him. "That runabout was our way out of here."

_So that was the source of the doctor's concern._ The only conclusion Garak could come to was that Bashir's illness was getting worse and he knew that he would require better medical attention.

Garak raised his eyeridges. "Do you think that Captain Sisko is going to leave us here? Your lack of faith in your superiors is unusual for a Starfleet officer."

Bashir hung his head. "I was planning for us to leave in a few more days. Damn it. This wasn't supposed to happen!" His shoulders were wracked with fine tremors.

Garak knelt down beside him, surveying his companion. His unprecedented outburst had been odd. He had never seen the doctor lose his calm or happy façade so thoroughly. The Cardassian was aware that the doctor was breaking from internal pressure. He recognized that look and tone of voice. It was the appearance of someone experiencing acute pain. Unbidden, Garak's paternal instincts sprung forth. He had inherited Mila's tender side and it was starting to show.

He spoke gently, awaiting reluctant acknowledgement. "Doctor, don't you think it's time to seek assistance? You really shouldn't go back to that medical facility unless you're going there as a patient."

Julian met his gaze. His large hazel eyes were pleading with him.

"My infection isn't that big of a problem. I can handle it, and the treatment is actually going well. There's so much unfinished business at the hospital."

"I trust your medical opinion and I hope your optimism proves to be well-founded, but I think it is unwise for you to keep putting strain on your body in your condition."

The Cardassian disliked nagging someone about their health. As Bashir had pointed out, he was hardly a role model when it came to seeking assistance. It felt hypocritical.

"It isn't much of a strain." Bashir smiled reassuringly at him. "I do a lot of assisting and instructing, but I actually do have to go now, Garak."

The Cardassian looked him over. Julian's gaze no longer held any pain and his smile was genuine and unforced. Despite a few lines around his eyes indicating sleeplessness, he appeared healthy.

The tailor sighed and rose. The doctor was being just as stubborn as a Cardassian, and Elim could not fault him for that. Still, there were signs that what Julian had could potentially be serious. Yet, the doctor had sworn it was only a minor issue.

Against his better judgement, the Cardassian bid him farewell for the afternoon. "Take care, doctor."

Julian's gaze conveyed his gratitude. "I'll be back at the house early this evening to discuss it with you. Then we can figure out what to do about getting out of here. I would stay and talk, but I have patients to go attend to."

Garak nodded to show his understanding. Julian left him standing there. Elim watched as Bashir walked away until he disappeared into the crowd. The tailor gazed up to the heavens. The sky was beginning to cloud over and rain threatened to fall. Like with many desert climates, stormy weather came quickly here. The clear skies were soon covered up and they darkened. The developing storm caused farmers to gradually pack up their goods. The Altanians sought shelter and there was a bustle of well-rehearsed activity as individuals traveled to their residences. The clouds were grey with a hint of green reflected by the molecules in the air. Garak hastened home. Cardassians did not care for cold water running over their chilled skin.

Walking back to the house, Garak's mind was in turmoil. The Cardassian wanted to know specifically what was wrong with his young companion, but he could do nothing to ease the doctor's pain. There was no denying that despite his gangly appearance, Julian was strong. He was also prideful, and the doctor's socialization with Cardassians had only increased his pride and sell-sufficiency. They were too similar in that respect. Yet, there was something about this situation that was prompting Garak to push on, to wear down Bashir's barriers.

He came to the end of his journey and sequestered himself away in their shared home. He discovered that their roof had several holes. As the first few droplets of rain began to fall, the location of the leaks were revealed. Shivering, Elim replicated buckets and put them under the cracks to catch the rainwater. The dripping sound echoed through the house. It was oddly soothing, considering that the sudden downpour was only a minor dilemma in comparison to the current large one.

Garak pulled out his shears and started cutting material to create an outfit. He lost himself in the routine of creating clothing. He kept up several trains of thought all at once about his creative process, the young human, and a number of other issues. There was no denying that Julian's condition took precedence in his mind. He was counting on his return soon. For now, he would work.

The dupioni fabric was a mix of iridescent green and blue. The warp and weft threads created an attractive teal effect. He measured and cut the pieces carefully, suiting them to a particular body type. He used black material for the lining. He became so enthralled with his project that he barely registered the rain dying down. However, he noticed the arrival of the doctor. Bashir tramped in soaking wet and carrying his medical kit and bag from the market. His dark hair was plastered to his head. The doctor came up beside him and surveyed the tailor's work.

"It's beautiful." His tone was soft as he surveyed the vivid material with the embroidery thread lying out.

"Thank you, but it's far from finished. You took your time getting back again." Garak said accusingly.

The doctor smelled strongly of blood and rainwater. The scent was overpowering. Elim suddenly seized Bashir's arms and scanned him. There was no hint of bloodstains on his uniform. There was no visible break in his skin, but his uniform hid most of his body from view. For the moment, Garak ignored that Bashir was soaking wet and shivering. He had caught a strong iron-like scent, a scent that was only this pungent around humans who were mortally injured. Alarm ran through him.

"Are you wounded?" He asked urgently.

Bashir blinked. "No."

Something about the high pitched tone along with the hesitation before he answered alerted the Cardassian to his dishonesty.

"Doctor, if someone has harmed you, I would care to know about it."

Bashir shook his head. "No one hurt me."

The statement rang with truth. Garak quickly puzzled out several theories about the nature of Bashir's problem.

"Where are you injured? I would like to see the extent of the damage."

Bashir shrugged nervously. "It really isn't somewhere you can look."

Garak appeared startled. He could only assume that Bashir had been injured in his more delicate areas. It was no wonder he had smelled so strongly of blood. Many species had numerous blood vessels near their nether regions. He knew enough about field medicine to theorize that injury to one's private parts was a dangerous matter if left unattended.

"We will go back to the hospital." The Cardassian encouraged him. Elim's muscles were tensed to take action, but Julian shook his head. The doctor was looking more and more flustered.

"I'll take care of it. 'Physician heal thyself.'"

Garak looked skeptical. "How do I know that you are caring for yourself adequately? You are obviously losing a large quantity of blood. Did it congeal over the cut?"

Bashir was blushing now, dark skin becoming darker. There was a pinkish hue in his cheeks.

"It's not a cut."

"What is it then? Is it a boil, blister, burn? An ulcer, perhaps?"

Bashir reacted in response to the last one. Finally they were narrowing it down to specifics.

"An ulcer on the groin or the backside?"

"Garak!"

"Doctor, you have to deal with such unpleasant quandaries frequently. Surely it is only natural for me to be just as clinical." The tailor reminded him. "Now which is it?"

"Neither!" Julian sputtered.

Garak tilted his head curiously. "But you stated that I could not examine this area. I fail to see what part of a human body could be such cause for shame."

Bashir had lost his patience. "It's internal, and it isn't just one ulcer. My digestive system is riddled with them."

Garak stared at him. "That would be extremely painful."

"It is, but not fatal."

Garak's brow furrowed in response to the hesitant claim that it was not a fatal condition. "Doctor, feel free to correct me, but I thought that ulcers wear through layers of fat and muscle. The hemorrhaging victim can suffer extensive blood loss. I assume that if you have numerous ulcers inside your body, then the condition is considered potentially fatal."

Julian looked at him with surprise. "For a man who fights medical intervention at every turn you know a lot about medical science."

"Medical science has its uses and points of interest like any branch of science. I'm certain that I don't have to tell you that a majority of different seed oils are ineffective for treating your condition."

Julian sighed. "Yes, but I had to try something. It's used to soothe burns, inflammation, and treat anxiety. In some cases it can worsen bleeding, but I thought the reduction in inflammation was worth the risk. I'm very swollen."

Bashir's hand passed absent-mindedly over his stomach. The Cardassian did not see any indication of swollen girth, but he accepted Bashir's evaluation.

The human hesitated and then added, "My ulcers are actually mild right now. There isn't much pain or blood loss. I've seen patients in worse condition, and this problem is only a steady ailment. Ulcers don't just start rapidly eating through internal organs. I'm going to be fine for several weeks until the Defiant comes for us."

Garak appeared unconvinced.

"I have a medical degree, Garak, and I can determine when this becomes an unmanageable problem. My medical supplies are limited, but I'm doing all that I can. It will be enough."

Elim still sensed that something was not right in this evaluation. "Then why were you distraught when our runabout was stolen? You stated that you were planning on leaving in several days."

Bashir gave him a sheepish smile. "No one cares to be picked up by their superior officer because their spacecraft was stolen. 'Days' was probably a bit of an exaggeration. I don't want to be stuck here for more than a month. A couple of weeks is enough to ensure that I've helped the Altanian doctors sufficiently."

Julian gave a sudden impatient bounce on his heels. "We can continue this conversation later, but I really should change out of these wet clothes. It's drafty in here."

Garak noted that the air was freezing and Julian had been standing there shivering the entire time. Bashir had probably been uncomfortable physically and mentally. The Cardassian took pity on him.

"Use the hot water for your shower." Garak said firmly.

"What about you?" Julian frowned. "You're part reptile and you need the heat more than a mammal."

"That's debatable, but consider it a favor from a friend."

The doctor looked too touched by the offer to reject it. He gave Garak a smile that thanked him for his generosity, and it effectively warmed Garak as well.

Julian retrieved fresh civilian clothing from his travel bag. The chill running through him prompted him to pick up a thick black long sleeve shirt and soft trousers. Humming, he went to take the hot shower that Garak insisted on. He was grateful that the tailor had persuaded him. Julian had not felt this refreshed in weeks. He felt thoroughly cleansed of medical center chemicals and bacteria. He reveled in the sensation of hot water flowing over him for longer than he planned.

His skin had a healthy glow as he settled himself in the living room. Garak paused briefly to glance over at him. The doctor saw the tailor's lips twitch into a slight smirk as he sewed the lining of the garment he was creating.

"The hot water was adequate, I take it?" The alien teased him.

Julian grinned. "Yes, thank you."

Bashir stretched back on the sofa. "What are you making? Is it a dress?"

"Oh, it's nothing of consequence. I'm more interested to hear about how you've been caring for yourself." Garak brought back the uncomfortable subject.

The doctor groaned, but he put on a show of stamina to reassure Garak. "I've been giving myself additional vitamins and minerals to make up for anything I've lost in nutrition. In fact, I should give myself another vitamin boost now. I've been keeping a steady schedule."

Garak nodded, watching as Bashir slipped into his room and shut the door. The Cardassian continued to work on his project. He snipped off a trailing piece of thread. They had yet to discuss how Bashir had gotten to be this way. It sounded like a human disease. Had he ingested something that harmed his health? Was he reacting to the atmosphere? There was still much that he did not know. He would address it once Bashir was comfortable again. Such questions were best suited when the subject of speculation was less agitated or their thoughts were on something else.

When Julian emerged from his room and sat again, he promptly informed Garak that he had the morning off tomorrow because it was an Altanian holiday. Elim had unexpectedly beamed.

"That is welcome news. There is a public garden not far from here in Alt'ratha. I wondered if you would accompany me to see it. I must admit that I am eager to discover the flora that thrives on this planet."

The doctor was suspicious of the sudden subject change."Oh, if you would like. It sounds interesting."

"You shouldn't come if you need to save your stamina. Perhaps later we can explore it when you have healed."

Julian interlocked his fingers together as he leaned forward. He appeared solemn and serious.

"Garak, what I have isn't going to go away on its own. Though it's manageable now, it has the potential to stay. I have what's called Ulcerative Colitis. It's starting to resemble an onset of Chron's Disease. These kinds of diseases are mainly genetic. I think my genetic enhancements delayed the onset. The cure isn't kept on this planet and my best chance of getting a hold of one is to go back to Deep Space Nine and send for it."

"That is disturbing news."

Julian nodded. "Yes, but I'm doing all that I can right now. I'd be willing to go to the gardens with you and I certainly have the energy to walk around. I think a visit to a garden is just the thing to help me unwind." The doctor hurried to placate him. To his credit, he actually looked happy at the prospect. "I think I would enjoy it."

Elim nodded. "Very well. We'll make a short visit and see what natural wonders Ferris VI has to offer."


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning dawned tranquilly. The doctor slept in and Garak waited patiently for his young friend to wake. Bashir had gotten up in the middle of the night again and he likely had not slept well. Nevertheless, the young man cheerfully accompanied the Cardassian to the gardens that morning.

There was a small price of admission into the Alt'ratha gardens and a queue that they had to pass through. Bashir wore a bright red shirt and pastel blue trousers. The color combination made Garak want to shut his eyes but he tolerated it with his usual civil smiles. The tailor was wearing different shades of green as though he was instinctively dressing to camouflage himself. After paying for tickets inside, they were directed into a greenhouse that led to an open garden. Bashir gazed upon the different colored blossoms with partly feigned interest. The garden was relatively small and it had received some damage recently. He could sense that his Cardassian friend was fascinated by the plants.

As Elim explored the terrain, he came to notice that his walking partner was falling behind. He saw Bashir gazing at something near the corner of the greenhouse. He appeared entranced by it. The tailor approached him.

"What are you watching so intently?"

Bashir turned to give him a brief smile. "Nature's best theater: predator and prey. I didn't know spiders were on this planet. I guess Earth might have accidentally infested Ferris VI. It's having a fight with a Tilenka bug."

The Cardassian slipped up behind him, surveying the desperate struggle between life and death. A minuscule arachnid had caught a brown winged creature. The creature flapped and fluttered in the remains of the web as the spider attacked. The arachnid was spiked and a pattern of white spots decorated its body. It closed in on the Tilenka, spinning webbing around its legs. The Cardassian and the human watched as the spider finished wrapping the creature's legs and the appendages were rendered immobile. The Tilenka gave a few more shudders until it stopped twitching.

"It's given up." Bashir said calmly.

"Against such insurmountable odds, it must." Garak remarked.

"It was a tiny little spider though. You would think the Tilenka would be agile enough to get out of that web. It must have been stuck fast." Bashir had stopped himself from interfering in the drama, despite his sympathies lying with the moth-like bug.

"The spider has to eat just like any creature. I'm certain it was glad of its prey." Elim's voice was oddly placating.

It occurred to Bashir that he was observing the fight of a spider and a Tilenka as though it were the most interesting thing on Ferris VI. They had talked of stranger things, but the simplicity of the exhibition had been a trifle ludicrous. Still, the tailor had watched the event with as much fascination as he did.

Garak continued. "Poor circumstances cause death just as much as formidable predators. As much as I find this all an intriguing study of nature's cycles, don't you think we should leave this heat? You're swaying where you stand."

Bashir directed a surprised look at him. "You don't want to walk more?"

"Perhaps, but as attractive as the garden is, there is very little information here to absorb. I think a seat in the shade would be more agreeable. After you." The Cardassian waved a hand in front of him.

Julian stepped onto the narrow path in front of his friend. After resting their legs and cooling off at one of the popular garden sitting areas, they went back to the house for a quiet afternoon. Julian went into his room to catch up on his sleep while Garak worked more on the garment he had started yesterday. He could not resist a touch of decoration. He adorned it with geometric designs that were popular with Cardassian outerwear. The embroidery thread he used was metallic gold and a deep sea blue. He hummed a few choir pieces. He kept his voice quiet so that Bashir could sleep before his shift. The doctor was on evening call, and he would eventually have to go back to his patients.

The next three days followed in the same peaceful routine of Bashir returning home after working and Garak meeting him after a day spent in the town. Julian would sit and read in their living space for a few minutes before retiring to his room. He kept up the sudden dashes to the facilities with more frequency. The skin around his eyes grew incredibly shadowed and he was starting to thin down. He did not have an appetite, but he forced himself to eat. The doctor gave himself frequent shots of vitamins and nutrients, but the problem only progressed.

Garak had noticed this and he kept an eye on his companion throughout. He asked about the pain several times a day. Bashir always answered that it was mild and that he was fine. The Cardassian had urged him to take a few days off, but it was never a good time. The doctor either had a surgery to attend or his expertise was needed for a particular patient.

Garak had done some charity work with the local children and that kept him busy for a large portion of the day. He brought them clothes and told them stories. The orphanages were crowded, but friendly places. They were better situated than the orphanages on Cardassia. The Altanians particularly liked the dresses he made in the colors that their vision was best suited for. He gave the fabric trimming with vibrant lace and beads that they greatly admired. Garak had become skilled at the Altanian form of "hide and seek" or "look to find and capture" as the Cardassian children had called it. Spending his days around the young lively life forms was soothing. He often cracked a smile during their games. They were fascinated by his textured skin, and he delicately had to remind them that there were certain ridges that they could not touch. They poked at his face wonderingly a few times, but thankfully they grew tired of touch exploration.

After playing childish games and socializing, he returned home to sew and await Bashir's return. Every day Julian had looked a little more worn, a little more fragile. Garak's mind grew unsettled. It had only been three days. Bashir's condition should have remained unchanged. He had promised the Cardassian that he would be healthy for weeks. Something was wrong.

It was the fourth day after their visit to the gardens that things came to a head. Bashir hobbled home that night. He literally stumbled and wavered. Garak thought that he had managed to imbibe. Julian walked through the living room and lay on the sofa. He groaned, sprawling.

"Doctor?" The Cardassian said softly.

"I'll live." Julian weakly assured him.

Bashir's uniform was rumpled and his hair stuck up on end. Fine tremors ran through his body and his eyes looked incredibly deep set. He appeared exhausted and gaunt. Julian struggled to sit up. He was panting, using all of his weakened strength to attempt to rise. Garak hastily came to his side to assist. Bashir reluctantly allowed Garak to level him up by the shoulders and Julian nodded at him in thanks. The doctor's hands had curled around his stomach protectively. His belly protruded within the confines of his uniform and it was noticeable despite the thick fabric of his clothing.

Elim lingered beside him.

"Your stomach is distended."

"I know." Bashir said with a soft groan.

Frowning, Garak glanced up at the doctor's dark eyes.

"Please tell me it's because you ate too much." He tried to inject humor into the situation.

"I couldn't eat anything today. Nothing stayed down." The doctor's clinical nature had fallen away in the onslaught of discomfort he was experiencing.

"Then perhaps you should have your medicine and vitamin hyposprays. I can administer the-" Garak cut himself off as Bashir gasped.

The doctor froze in place. Bashir's limbs gave several violent shivers of pain that progressed to thrashing. He stared straight ahead, agony in his gaze. His world had fallen away to nothing but pain.

"Doctor, what's happening? Doctor!" Garak gave up trying to get an answer as he watched Bashir succumb to the shaking.

The tailor had hoped to startle him into responding, but he could only linger by the doctor's side helplessly. The thrashing appeared to be pain induced rather than a seizure. Garak moved his hands to the doctor's shoulders, about to hold him down before he could hurt himself or fall. Clarity crept over Bashir's gaze and he dodged the Cardassian's efforts to pin him in place.

Bashir quickly got up and staggered. His genetic enhancements allowed him to slink away to the watercloset before Elim could stop him. The door was rammed shut by the handle on the interior. The Cardassian took a moment to speak to the doctor through the door. He had watched a distressing display to which what little physical assistance he could provide was rejected.

"Doctor, are you alright in there? Why are hiding from me?" His tone was sharp with worry.

"I can't control my body's reaction to the ulcers."

Julian was bleeding from the inside again and it was irritating the lining of his digestive system. The exact amount of blood Bashir could stand losing was still a mystery to the Cardassian. That bout of pain had been a mere glimpse of what his future health could be.

Garak waited patiently for his friend to reemerge. He sat down on the couch, casting his sewing project a vaguely tempted look. Sewing usually soothed his nerves and made passing time easier, but today it would not be enough. Julian eventually joined him.

"Doctor, perhaps we could manage to send out a distress signal to Terok Nor. We must let them know that we won't be making it back without help." Garak was certain that if they did not find a way off this planet soon, his friend would start to suffer grievously.

"You know as well as I do that the interference from the surrounding asteroid belts and other natural phenomena would make a signal impossible. There's the atmosphere to consider as well." Bashir replied coolly. The doctor deliberately stopped his hands from protectively covering his swollen stomach.

"We might be able to find a Cardassian craft, something that crashed a few years ago." Garak had switched roles as the eternal optimist. He could not let Bashir quietly go through this.

"I've checked this planet's traffic records. There's nothing." He paused and added, "Besides, our task here is not complete."

"It is inadvisable for you to continue treating patients." Garak stated calmly.

Julian needed to rest now, or the only patient he would be capable of treating was himself. Even that could be wishful thinking.

"I need to keep doing my duty. There's still a lot of patients that need my help and I can't just hand them over to another doctor."

"You have been rendered anemic by this disease. You seem to be bleeding too severely to continue walking, much less working. The Altanians will understand your dilemma."

"Garak, I don't want to argue right now. Can't we just…agree to disagree for the moment?" The doctor implored him.

The tailor paused, but he continued the discussion more gently. "We must talk of it sometime, doctor. You look dreadful, and I think that you would concur under normal circumstances."

Julian tilted his head and gazed up at Garak calculatingly. He must have found something worth pondering over in his body language, for he acknowledged the tailor's worry.

"I'll consider it."

Elim frowned. He supposed that was better than outright rejection of his claims. The doctor was in a lot of pain and the ulcers were developing more rapidly than he had predicted. Perhaps he had been in worse condition when they arrived than he had let on. Garak had wished that Bashir would repay his unswerving loyalty with consideration for his own wellbeing, but the human augment continued to regard the health of others above his own.

The doctor and the Cardassian had kept up mild conversation until evening fell. The human had been acting meek in response to their argument and it was beginning to appear as though he would take Garak's advice. When they bid each other goodnight, he had smiled softly.

"Sleep well, Garak. I think I might want to try a game of Kotra tomorrow after I make a few personal transmissions."

The Cardassian lit up with eagerness and barely contained relief.

"I would be delighted to teach you. You would make a skillful player."

Julian nodded and keyed his door shut. Closed inside his room and hidden from view, the doctor squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down his guilt.

* * *

><p>The night was punctuated by opened and closed doors as the doctor's nausea increased along with his dashes to the watercloset. Garak had checked on him once. Julian had assured him that he would be fine and that he did not want a witness to the heaving up of what little there was in his stomach. Elim had honored his request, but told the doctor that if he needed assistance in some way, he was just in the next room. Julian had smiled and called him a mother hen. Bashir eventually went back to bed.<p>

Garak awoke late. The suns were well above the horizon when he padded out of bed and ordered a cup of red leaf tea from the replicator. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and shrugged on a robe. His thoughts had immediately turned to Bashir. The human had promised him Kotra today after he called in sick. He was looking forward to the game. He thought to wake his human companion so that he could notify the hospital of his absence today. Elim knocked on Bashir's bedroom door and opened it after hearing no reply. The bed was empty and the blankets and coverlets lay crumpled halfway onto the floor as if Julian had just sprung out of bed. Garak checked the room for a note or a PADD containing an explanation of why he was so determined to leave. There was nothing. The doctor had gone back to work.

Setting down his cup of barely touched tea, Elim took off the robe and went to quickly put on his day clothes. With a heavy heart, he went to go retrieve the rash young man. Julian had deceived him. For once, Garak was not impressed. He usually admired the doctor when the human managed to catch him off guard, but not this time.

The tailor walked quickly out and onto the street. He lacked his usual grace and his footsteps were hurried by urgency. Bashir was not fit to walk, much less throw himself back into this private hell. In hindsight, this literal dash to retrieve his companion was an unusual display of emotion, yet there was cold calculation here. He knew with certainty that the doctor needed to come back with him.

He found Bashir at his temporary offices up high on the east wing. Garak showed his identification and was allowed the personal visit. He waited until the doctor had finished with his current Altanian patient and then he swept into the room like a storm cloud, ready to unleash lightning fast words should the situation require it. He found Bashir putting away his medical tools. The doctor's hands were quivering. His eyes seemed dull and lifeless.

"You should rest." Garak suggested. The three words were calm, but they held an inner fire.

Julian prepped the patient bench for the next injured Altanian. He shook his head. His abdomen was so distended that he was starting to imitate the wide stance of a pregnant human.

"You have to go." He reminded him.

"No." The tailor shook his head. His patience had been thoroughly tried at this point.

"Garak, I need to be alone with my next patient!"

The Cardassian shook his head. The doctor was being irrational. He was pushing himself too hard and he knew it. The tailor needed him to make him wake up to the knowledge that he needed help.

Bashir knew that he was being snappish and defensive like a cornered animal. An intense ripple of pain shot through him. His insides burned and agony clawed its way up his gut. He was standing there shaking. The bout of pain struck as quickly and severely as it had yesterday. Despite the doctor's harsh dismissal, the tailor caught him in a soft grip and proceeded to lower him gently onto the floor. The doctor flailed and nearly backhanded him in the face as he thrashed. The Cardassian pinned his wrists while Bashir lay there twitching and panting. The spasm passed just as quickly as it had come.

"You're going back to the house." Garak said firmly.

"But-"

"You'll see no more patients. You're going home."

Julian's eyes widened, startled at the firm declaration that brooked no argument. One last growl of indignant anger escaped.

"You have no right to dictate that I leave here."

He saw something in Garak crack at these words. "I may not have the skills to treat your condition, but I do know that you need to rest in bed. Think, doctor! You can no longer keep down anything you ingest, you hardly sleep, and you are experiencing acute bouts of pain from the ulcers in your digestive system."

Elim's face was shadowed with worry, but his expression also held a sudden tenderness. He pressed on. "You are already having difficulties standing and moving. I have so few friends and family members left. You know how important such connections are to Cardassians and our culture. I _need_ my family intact, be they by blood or adoption."

Bashir stared at him with nothing but utter shock in his eyes. Understanding dawned on him and Garak nodded when he saw his realization.

"Starfleet's mission can wait. These people have their own kind to care for them. You are an exceptional doctor, but…how does the phrase go? You need not 'move heaven and Earth' for these Altanians. They will manage."

Julian's shoulders relaxed and his body lost its internal coil of tension. Garak was right that he was not vital here. Something in him wanted to accept defeat. He had reached the point where any effort took an enormous amount of energy. Julian was so tired of fighting. He surrendered gracefully. With a calm demeanor, Doctor Bashir held out his hand towards the Cardassian. Garak took it and assisted him to his feet. The doctor swayed dizzily for a moment and Elim waited until he got his bearings.

"I need the facilities before I leave." The declaration seemed trifling after their serious discussion, but the doctor could feel his body protesting the blood leaking into his intestines. He sped off. He wanted to think of all the things that Garak had just revealed to him. Later he wanted to examine, determine, and calculate what the conversation had become.

In almost a half hour he stumbled out of the fresher. He literally tripped over his own feet and the tailor had to steady him. He asked Bashir if he could walk. Julian nodded numbly and he was steered out of the hospital with a hand at his back. In the haze of tiredness and pain, he was aware that Garak had called him his family. Nothing but that could break his heart and make it flood with warmth simultaneously. To be considered part of a Cardassian family meant undying loyalty from both sides. It was usually derived from a kind of sacrificial love. Elim had stated that he would risk his life for him, and he trusted that Julian would do the same. It was a big step from friendship straight into devoted brotherhood.

At the last stretch of road before their shared rooms, Bashir had faltered. Garak had stopped altogether and helped him sit down on the side of the road. They waited until the doctor felt like standing. After he had gotten his stamina back, they traveled over the last stretch of road and entered the house. Garak settled him in bed. Bashir briefly protested, stating that he was starving. The Cardassian assured him that he would bring him something and they would dine together while the doctor rested. They ate and talked for the rest of the afternoon. Bashir was so tired that his words occasionally slurred or that he was forced to form short, clipped sentences. The tailor left him in peace and he went to his own room to sleep.

Bashir sent word to the hospital that he would not report back until he took a break from work.

He never reported back.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The warnings in the fic summary apply to this chapter and the next two chapters. This is a realistic description of how colitis can progress in some cases.

* * *

><p>After the incident of Garak having to collect him at work, the doctor allowed himself some creature comforts. He slept late curled around Kukalaka and he gradually awoke with the rising of the suns. The bear's fur was becoming matted and felted from overuse. It had spent many nights in his arms as a child. He started to use it as something to ground him during the bouts of pain. He slowly got out of bed and slipped Kukalaka back into his travel sack. The bear would not be discovered by his housemate there, though it was likely that Garak would not have an inkling of the human ridicule involved with a grown man sleeping with a teddy bear.<p>

He got up to use the fresher and he forced himself to eat breakfast. Elim and Julian remained indoors for much of the morning. There was no talk of venturing out of their abode, so they spent the day in. Eventually, Garak challenged him to a game of Kotra. Bashir took him up on it despite feeling weak and shaky. Together, they arranged the pieces and began the game of strategy. The Cardassian patiently explained the rules and the human caught on quickly. Elim had to use every scrap of strategic knowledge he had to outmaneuver him. They had to take frequent breaks as Julian fought with the pain or needed the watercloset. Garak was about to take his Kotra army out of commission when Julian suddenly went into a very bad spell. He had to dash to the fresher. Elim waited and waited for the doctor to reconvene their game. After fifteen minutes he became restless. After half an hour he became suspicious. When Julian was hidden away for 45 minutes it was apparent that something was wrong.

Garak knew how humans lamented the use of shared facilities. They complained when showers were stolen and limited access to one's hygiene products could be initiated at any moment. He did not care about such trifles. All he wanted was for the doctor to come out of there this instant and give him proof that he was not suffering. He could have self-medicated with dangerous results.

The Cardassian knocked on the door softly. "Doctor, are you all right in there?"

There was a pause.

"Fine." Came a weak murmur.

"How badly are you bleeding?" He silently cursed the closed door.

He did not wish to break into Bashir's privacy, but the man could be bleeding to death on the other side and not utter a word about it.

"I'll be…alright."

The assurance was hardly comforting.

He heard Bashir give a little choking sound and then glass shattered. Julian had brought in glass of water and medication. He heard a loud thump as if Bashir had fallen.

"Doctor, open the door!"

There was no answer. The door was both manual and computerized, so Garak took advantage of the situation. He typed in an emergency code and the door slid back to admit him. He could not say that the sight he was met with was surprising, but he still felt a twinge of embarrassment on Julian's behalf.

The human had stripped to avoid getting blood on his clothing. He lay on his side, half curled up and nude. His thighs and feet were painted with blood. His feet and shins had been stained with red when he had slipped on the small puddle of crimson on the floor. The air had an acrid scent brought on by vomit. It looked and smelled like a poorly kept hospital ward. The glass lay shattered nearby. Despite the wash of red on the tiles, the doctor had not harmed himself on the beverage cup.

Julian had averted his eyes with shame when he saw Garak enter the room. Garak tucked a towel over his exposed body. Bashir was trembling. The doctor felt the blood trickle down his thighs and stain the towel wrapped around him. The Cardassian stood and ran the tap water onto a hand towel. He crouched down beside him.

"No need to feel ashamed, doctor. I'm going to wash off your legs and help you back into bed. We'll resume our game at a later time."

Julian nodded. He was likely used to observing this kind of assistance being offered to the ill and injured. The Caradassian quickly wiped up the blood from his spindly shins and feet and then he cleaned up the droplets on the floor. He ignored the shattered glass for the moment, concentrating on Julian's weak form.

Garak tucked an arm around his waist and helped him to his feet. Julian made a sputtering noise when the towel nearly slipped off and he had to adjust it. The tailor waited patiently while he fussed. He understood Bashir's craving for the utmost dignity while in his condition. He knew from experience that being cared for by a friend in close quarters was not the most desirable situation, so he would do his best to ensure that the human remained comfortable. They made their unsteady way into the bedroom and he allowed Bashir to extricate himself from his grip to climb into bed. He lay down on the cool soft sheets and gave a sigh.

The tailor vanished again. He walked back into the facilities and returned with another clean and damp washcloth. Julian watched him with a mix of dread and suspicion in his glazed eyes. Garak sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. He let his gaze convey his honest concern and affection.

"We both know that you are hiding a fair amount of blood under that towel and it would be remiss of us to ignore it as it dries there. I understand that under normal circumstances you wouldn't be bothered by it, but you have been showing signs of infection. Cleanliness is key."

The tailor knew that Julian was humiliated by this.

"Can you do it yourself?

Bashir hesitated and then gave a short nod. He reached for the damp cloth with a shaking hand.

"I'll be just outside to grant you some privacy. Don't hesitate to call for me." With that, the Cardassian stepped out of the room and waited until he took care of himself.

The doctor untucked the fabric from around his waist. Julian started to wash the blood off. He flinched as the cold cloth touched his leg. He gave a little sigh of frustration as the damp cloth fell from his grip, but he persevered. Most of the blood had been between his legs. When he finished, he disposed of both towels. He had just managed to put on his bathrobe when Garak came back in. The Cardassian helped him over to the mattress and directed him to lie back against the pillows.

"You all right?" Bashir asked.

He had reverted to his broken choppy language. In addition to his pitiful murmur, his question had been ludicrous. Bashir had just heaved up everything he ate and bled all over the floor and he was asking if Garak was all right. Yet, the tailor knew why he had asked the question. The Cardassian had frozen when he saw Bashir's bloody legs, but it had been more out of concern for the doctor than a memory flashback.

"I am perfectly well. I was simply concerned."

A desperate look started clouding over Bashir's visage.

"I'm-hungry."

Of course the doctor was hungry. He had hardly kept anything down these past five days. If only his body would allow him to accept nourishment this time.

Elim played waiter to him again. It was the least he could do under the circumstances. "What would you like?"

Their replicator options were limited, but there were a few human food choices programmed in.

"Eggs. Please."

Garak's heart broke a little more upon hearing the faint murmur.

"Little plate." Bashir reminded him. "Very small."

He had meals in such small quantities that Garak might as well have been trying to keep a Cardassian Ragnar lizard alive with his meal portions.

"No energy to talk-very odd." Bashir sighed.

"I know. It's to be expected." Garak said softly as he ordered the simple protein dish from the replicator.

Julian nodded as Elim set the small plate on the nightstand along with a glass of water. The doctor's state of undress would have been indecent to any other Cardassian, but not to him. Bashir was so thin and delicate that the tailor felt only an overwhelming concern. Elim fluffed up the pillows behind him and helped him sit up.

Bashir's state of health was in rapid decline. If the Defiant was held up for much longer, the doctor would not survive to see anyone other than Garak from Terok Nor. The medicine he had given himself to decrease his nausea had long since stopped working. If only Elim could find some way of taking the doctor's mind off of his queasiness...

A book near Bashir's luggage caught the Cardassian's eye and then an idea struck him.

"Would you like me to read to you while you eat?"

"Shouldn't trouble you…" Bashir murmured.

"It's no trouble at all. I would enjoy it."

The doctor gave him a wan smile. Garak smiled back and picked up Bashir's murder mystery novel. It was a collection of short stories with everything from works by Arthur Conan Doyle to Agatha Christe. The rustic settings helped Julian relax and Garak had taken an interest in the old Terran terminology. Garak found that he enjoyed entertaining him. He reveled in the subtle wordplay. Julian ate the small meal in silence as he listened to Elim's smooth voice wash over him.

* * *

><p>Garak made inquiries into off-planet communication and different distress signal frequencies. The technology simply did not exist and altering life support systems to create a signal could take at least an additional month. Elim was reluctant to leave Julian's side while the doctor was physically dependent on him. The atmosphere effectively scrambled most attempts at giving transmissions and overcoming that environmental barrier could take a very long time.<p>

After six more days of home recuperation, Bashir could not move. The doctor had made a startled noise, alerting the dozing Cardassian. Moisture prickled at Bashir's eyes as he desperately tried to shift his limbs. Garak gracelessly came into the room without knocking. Bashir's sound of distress had been a powerful pull to his side.

"Garak, I…I can't lift my head. Can't move anything except… my mouth" He was still struggling to form full sentences.

The doctor was immobile and lying sprawled in bed.

"I'm afraid I can't diagnose you and your tricorder doesn't work." Garak reminded him. He sat down beside him on the bed.

"Wait…I can move my fingers!" The slim fingers twitched and Julian gave him a watery smile.

"Good. Well done, doctor. Try moving your feet."

The human gave an intense expression of concentration before he shifted them.

"Now your legs."

His face scrunched up and his thighs and knees trembled. He was gasping.

"Relax." Garak soothed him.

Without prompting, Bashir moved his elbows. He took in several deep breaths and slowly exhaled a steady stream of air. He felt his tension gradually leave him.

"I-I think I'm just weak."

"Are you too warm? Cold?" Garak had managed to adjust the climate controls and it kept their rooms in comfortable high heat. The Cardassian had given Bashir most of his blankets to ward off the chill that plagued his undernourished body.

"Neither. I don't feel… temperature. I'm thirsty and hungry."

Garak had gotten up to fetch him a meal, but he cast Bashir a worried look as the doctor tried to move his arms to prop himself up. He was shaking badly. Garak lifted him up by his broad shoulders and situated him to rest against a stack of pillows.

"You seem to have regained limited mobility. I suppose the sudden weakness might have been brought on by the lack of nourishment or low blood sugar."

"Make a doctor-of you…ye-" Julian said softly.

Garak got the gist of the statement and smiled. "I am quite content to keep my regular doctor instead of resorting to studying medicine."

Julian ate his meal in silence and let Garak set aside the dish when he finished.

Bashir sighed. "I'm tired."

"Then rest. I will be here."

"You've hardly s-slept."

"It's no matter."

The tailor got up briefly to retrieve the sewing project he had left in the doctor's room. He sat in a chair by the bedside as he continued ornamenting the teal garment. Julian shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep again. Garak watched him surrender to slumber after the brief scare. Julian's lips were pale and his cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut something. Garak watched his thin chest rise and fall with every breath. The tailor blinked back the burning sensation in his eyes.

* * *

><p>Kukalaka's foot peeked out from Julian's travel bag. The doctor eyed the fuzzy limb with a glazed look. He briefly contemplated pulling the bear free and taking him into his arms, but decided against it. He was in such continuous pain that the whole exercise of soothing himself had become futile. He just wanted the agony to stop.<p>

He had stowed away a hypospray in his bag from the hospital. It was something non-lethal to others, a particular chemical that caused a fatal allergic reaction. He had always given himself options and this was his last resort if he needed it. There was rarely an hour of the day when he was not in pain. If there was no longer a way out of this situation, then he might consider it. For now, it just felt reassuring to have it. He did not know what kind of a future lay in store for him if this condition progressed. He had long since made a pact with death. He saw death often in his position as a doctor and he had stopped fearing it. When the Defiant came for them, he would dispose of the hypospray.

Julian required distractions and assistance to walk or sit. The Cardassian plied him with food whenever he was awake, which was becoming less and less often. The doctor would occasionally start to fall asleep involuntarily. Garak sent for an Altanian doctor to come examine him. The alien had a difficult time understanding his biology, much less his malady. In the end, the other doctor had no new treatments to suggest. Bashir and Garak were on their own.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: It's time to reveal the story behind the story. I've had this disease for six years and this is a fictionalized collection of my memories. It's difficult to write about this, since it's actually an accurate portrayal. This is mostly an awareness and therapy fic. I needed to move on after everything that happened.

Thank you, lovely reviewers.

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><p>The reason for Bashir's sudden lethargy was discovered when he experienced a full-fledged fever. The doctor tossed and turned, mumbling everything from medical data to urgent summons for his parents. Garak gave him what fever reducers they had brought with them. When his fever was at its peak, getting up became even more difficult.<p>

The fever had burned itself out by the next morning, leaving Bashir very fragile and wan. Garak could have fashioned an intravenous line for him, but he was unable to obtain the correct fluids that could have assisted the doctor. Even trying to administer a saline solution would be troublesome. Pure sodium chloride in water was impossible to recreate with their supplies. The Altanians did not have anything that benefited human biology, and the Cardassian replicator was useless in that regard. Julian was wasting away so effectively that Garak had to resort to coaxing him to eat. The doctor was becoming painful to look at. He was a tangle of jutting ribs and bony fingers and knees.

For Julian, the hypo that he had stowed away was looking more and more tempting. The doctor simply lay there and observed for the majority of the time. His surroundings were thrown into high focus. He began counting things, for his genetic enhancements were nearly non-existent. The lack of nourishment had slowed down his thought processes. He counted Garak's ridges and the cracks and irregularities in the ceiling. He wondered what Garak would say if he told him that he had exactly 14 ridges leading up from his nose to his chufa. He never had the opportunity to tell him. The doctor only spoke an average of 12 words every 30 hours. Speech became increasingly difficult. He was not in much pain, though he still bled severely.

He often thought about his friends on DS9. Sometimes he hallucinated about their presence and sometimes he simply let his overactive imagination comfort him. Miles told him about malfunctioning power couplings and he chided him about his laziness. The engineer wanted him to recover so that they could play darts when he returned to the station. Jadzia came to him in times of acute hopelessness, stroking his brow. She would sometimes transform into his mother or his father. The apparition would murmur words of comfort and encouragement. His last imagined visitor crept in one night while Julian was experiencing an unusually harsh bout of pain. The man sat silently on the edge of his bed. He did not say a word.

Julian reached out towards the shadow of Captain Sisko. The Captain smiled at him, but remained stationary. He eventually faded with the night. These hallucinations of his were induced by blood loss, but Julian found unexpected solace in their presence. He could say goodbye to them. His last days would not be lonely.

Yet, there was one person he wanted to see more of. He wanted to see Garak today. The Cardassian had been away more frequently to find a means of escape off of the planet. The Cardassian traders who frequented Ferris VI had been gone for months, but that did not stop Garak from forming contacts to notify him in case of their arrival. Nor did it stop him from exploring any higher tech facilities he came across for transmission equipment. Julian had heard Elim enter the house after coming back from just such an expedition.

With new determination, Julian struggled out of bed and ventured towards the living room. His feet tripped him up and he teetered and collapsed. He hit the flooring with a resounding thump and shockwaves of agony raced up his legs. He opened his mouth to cry out, but only a feeble whine escaped. Grimacing and hoping that the Cardassian's hearing was just as weak as he claimed, Julian attempted to rise again. He slumped back onto the floor. His heart was beating madly. He stayed there for several minutes, catching his breath. Bashir heard footsteps approach his door.

"Doctor?" The tailor knocked.

Julian curled up. He heard Garak open the door and set down what sounded like rattling chinaware on his bedside table.

Elim crouched down beside him and lightly touched his shoulder. "Are you conscious?"

"Yes." Julian responded weakly.

"Do you need to…?" Garak began.

"No."

"Would you like to get back into bed? I've brought you red leaf tea."

"Can't…I can't stand."

There was silence for a moment until Elim broke in: "Doctor, let me do this."

The human could not find breath or the strength to ask what he was going to do. He found that his limbs were being gently manipulated. His hip joint protested the movement and he let out a muffled squeak. Garak paused and prodded the hip. Julian held back a screech, breath hissing out between his tightly clenched teeth.

"I'll stop now. I was testing to see if it was broken."

It was a reasonable precaution, Julian admitted to himself. His bones had become brittle from the continued malnutrition. He felt the Cardassian put an arm underneath his knees and behind his back. The doctor cringed as the pain returned. Before he could attempt to speak, he was lifted back into bed. He could not hold back the high keening wail that began in his throat when his pelvis touched the mattress. He heard Garak swear in Kardasi.

He was startled when he felt the mattress dip. There was the brush of a scaly arm and then he was being gently hoisted against the tailor. The Cardassian held him like a child, with his arms looped around him and Bashir's head supported by his bicep and shoulder. Garak's back was to the headboard. The agony had miraculously ceased.

"What-y-you doing?" Julian asked muzzily.

"I needed to redistribute your weight and the pillows weren't doing the job." Garak said softly.

His gaze was so honest and open. Elim held the skin and bones version of his dearest friend. He knew that Julian was not long for this world.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the room, lighting everything in a warm orange glow. He felt as though they were in the midst of a vast desert. Disease had taken his traveling companion and there was no escape, no relief for his ills. They would rest and wait for rescue while they endeavored to survive. Bashir was as silent as the grave. His eyes were blinking closed. Elim held him close and pulled the covers over them. The human was shivering.

Bashir spoke again. It was one word in the form of a question.

"Why?

Garak pondered over what Julian was trying to ask. _Why was life like this? Why did their friends abandon them? Why was Garak doing this?_

"Holding an ill member of one's family is a Cardassian custom." The tailor stated matter-of-factly.

"Really? Bashir said with the tiniest spark of curiosity.

"No."

Bashir frowned.

"But Mila would hold me when I was ill." He added.

That made the doctor smile. Elim's heart clenched painfully. All was silent again.

* * *

><p>It was Dax who had voiced sudden concern over the absence of the doctor and the tailor. Julian had told Benjamin Sisko that he planned on being gone for exactly two weeks. When the extra days began to creep by, the Trill had brought it to everyone's attention. Doctor Bashir was not on a friendly planet. He had always been good at keeping his word, and he should have found some way to contact them by now. She had gathered up all of her cunning arguments to convince the captain to take the Defiant out to find him. Captain Sisko had listened to her for a full minute until he halted her stream of verbal persuasion.<p>

He acknowledged her concern and told her to be ready to depart. She had stared at him with disbelief. It seemed that she had not been the only one who thought that something was wrong on Ferris VI. Captain Sisko had left Major Kira in charge of the station while he took the Defiant out. Several members of the medical staff had accompanied them. Chief O'Brien had installed some new tech in the ship's medical bay and some of them were eager to get a look at it. The newly transferred Starfleet staff members had not met the station CMO, and they came out of curiosity.

It was an uneventful journey. Jadzia had asked Miles about his latest refitting of the Defiant. He was only too happy to share the technical quandaries involved with installations and stabilizer boosting. After several hours, they came upon Ferris VI. The first action they took was open hailing frequencies only to find that the exercise was fruitless. They had heard from the Cardassian visitors of the planet that the atmosphere was nearly impenetrable. It became a question of landing or beaming up their officer and resident tailor. The transporter buffer was in perfect working order. The subnavian particles only affected sound waves and other similar frequencies.

If they got close enough, transmission would be possible, but it might also have the detrimental effect of scaring their Altanian friends. The Defiant was not a friendly ship to look at. She was a warship, and her cloaking device was still having minor difficulties.

"We tried contacting his commbadge." Chief O'Brien informed them.

"Try finding them with a broad range scan."

Miles had nodded. It was not a hard task. A human and a Cardassian would be easy to locate. It was not long until he found two of such life signatures.

"Beam them up."

Nodding, the Chief went back to the beaming pad and started the transfer. Hopefully, Bashir and Garak would be in a presentable state. One never knew when beaming up personnel without notifying them. The worst that had ever happened to Miles was that he had been beamed aboard a ship while wearing pajamas, but there were more laughable incidences of officers being beamed without a stitch of clothing on. At least he was the only one working the platform controls.

"Energize." He said softly to himself as he pulled down the dials.

* * *

><p>Garak started to feel a curious sensation. His limbs began tingling as though his bloodflow was cut off. Was he feeling premature grief? Had he bottled up his misery so much that it was finally coming out whether he wanted it to or not?<p>

A humming noise filled the room. The world shimmered out in a blaze of blue and white light and Garak felt simultaneous relief and dread. He suspected that Bashir would not appreciate being transported in a state like this. His health was so unstable that the beaming process might be too stressful on his heart. It fluttered like a panicked bird within his chest.

Elim had no time to think over these quandaries as he materialized abruptly on the Defiant. Chief Miles O'Brien stared at them with utter confusion. Garak was huddled on the platform, tenderly cradling a limp form. It looked skeletal. The human's head was tucked under the Cardassian's chin.

"Chief, we need a doctor." The tailor said calmly.

Miles stared at them, mouth gaping open. "My God, is that Julian?"

"Yes." Garak said simply. "He needs medical attention right away."

As Miles relayed the message, Garak spoke softly to his charge.

"We're home, doctor. We'll be back on Terok Nor soon." He let some of his sentimentality creep into his voice.

Bashir opened his glassy eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath. He turned his head towards Garak's neck, using the space under his chin to shield his eyes from the bright lights. The tailor seemed strangely relaxed, even when the medical team arrived.

They pried Julian off to whisk him away to the small infirmary. The Cardassian was left alone on the beaming platform, smelling of human sweat and blood. He was still in light clothing and the abrupt climate change in addition to the loss of human warmth left him shivering. To his surprise, Chief O'Brien offered him a hand up. Garak staggered, wavering. He was exhausted both mentally and physically. Taking care of Bashir had not required much stamina, but Garak had neglected sleeping. Leaning on the walls and the bulkheads, the Cardassian let the Chief lead him to a ship cabin.

Once the tailor was safely ensconced in the room, O'Brien turned up the heating with the temperature controls. Elim could not find the words to thank him; he only sank down on the nearest bed and curled up like a worn, cold reptile. He heard O'Brien order the lights off and then the Chief left him to sleep.

* * *

><p>Julian Subatoi Bashir was grumpy, befuddled, and completely uncomfortable. He had just moments ago been snuggled up cozily to a Cardassian until he had been pried away by many hands and flipped over to lie on his back on a stretcher. He cried out as his vertigo kicked in and his swollen stomach protested. He recognized the Bajoran and Starfleet medical uniforms around him, but his discomfort stopped him from focusing on any particular individual. He heard the nurses calling to each other about his severe dehydration and a number of issues that all stemmed from his colitis. He was rushed to the infirmary. Julian could not help but mentally curse a little at the loss of Garak's presence.<p>

He was laid out on a patient table that was hooked to a number of data consules. Every heartbeat was monitored and every general biological fact about his body was listed. The Defiant had undergone some upgrades while he was away. This new piece of technology was extremely useful and he would have explored its amazing features if he had the stamina. The patient table was cataloging all of his digestive difficulties and diagnosing him.

They told him to undress completely and they left him a medical gown. Bashir managed to slip his clothes off after they pushed a curtain around him. In a gown and wrapped in a sheet, he sleepily greeted a young nurse who inserted an intravenous line into his forearm. Then a doctor had appeared, confirming the self-diagnosis Bashir had formulated weeks ago. Bashir started to lose track of time as they took blood from him and sat him up to drink a glass of juice. He blinked blearily, drifting to sleep at a moment's notice only to shake himself awake again.

Eventually, he was transferred to a bio bed that was infinitely more comfortable but less informative about his condition. He slept through everything. He only fought the tide of unconsciousness to hear others asking him to move a certain way or informing him about the medicine that they were pumping into his bloodstream. He did not respond to any of their commands or indicate that he heard them. He had finally reached the physical limit where his body shut down and refused to do anything. He was dying, or at least close enough to death to know that he did not belong in the realm of the living.

The medical staff gave up coaxing him to move to submit to a test or a treatment. They gently manipulated his limbs for him. They covered up his waist until they had to wash away the blood that had dried on his thighs. They refused to let him up yet, so a catheter was inserted. His heart rate was still unstable and he was risking cardiac arrest. Bashir did not speak, only giving the occasional moan and twitch. They attended him for much of the night, monitoring his vitals and trying to reverse the damage inflicted to his intestines by the progress of the disease. The swelling of his abdomen went down and his episodes of pain were less frequent.

He saw only medical staff for the first few days in the infirmary back at the station. He barely had the energy to say a word. When he could speak, he asked for Garak. On the third day of treatment, Garak came in. He saw Bashir open his mouth and utter a croaking noise that resembled his name. The Cardassian had tsked at him disapprovingly.

"Now doctor, I know you can't speak. Why don't you save yourself the trouble, hmm?" Elim sat on the edge of his bed in a familiar way. The bio bed beeped at him, as if incensed about suddenly reading two life forms on its surface.

"The others have been eager to see you, but I've explained your condition to them."

Julian did not need to ask about to whom he was referring. Jadzia was probably having kittens about his limited visitors. Miles was likely sulking.

"You'll be released soon. I must say that it is a delight to see you here, alive and breathing." Garak said with a pleased expression.

Bashir hummed in response, corners of his mouth twitching into an attempted smile.

"I have brought your book."

Garak did not need to elaborate. Julian nodded in encouragement for the Cardassian to start reading.


	7. Chapter 7

After several more days of treatment, Bashir was released from the infirmary. His footsteps were still wobbly and dizzy spells plagued him, but the damage to his intestines had healed over. Miles had offered to take Julian in as a temporary lodger, but Bashir had grown tired of people caring for him. He wanted some time to himself and a space of his own.

When Bashir first started walking after the incident, he hardly had the strength to put one foot in front of the other. Sometimes he would simply sink down onto the floor and rest until he had the strength to stand again and reach the replicator or whatever goal he had in mind. At times, he woke up on the carpet of his quarters after being shaken awake by Miles. The engineer would proceed to help him back to bed and fetch whatever Julian had been searching for. His voice was coming back, but it was a struggle to keep up a long discussion. He had good and bad days. He was getting stronger, but his joints ached abominably and his heart jolted at unexpected moments. Nevertheless, he was alive and walking.

When he returned, he received gentle hugs from Jadzia and Keiko. Miles clapped him on the back. Garak stopped by every evening to check on him. It usually led to a game of Kotra or chess. His relationship with the Cardassian had changed drastically. Garak treated him like a prized family member. The tailor had taken to carrying a coat with him exclusively for Bashir's use whenever they met for lunch on the promenade.

Miles had done his share of Julian-sitting. He visited some evenings to talk, reminisce, and drink. Bashir could taste alcohol and have a mouthful, but Miles had stopped him from having more. Everything he drank was ridiculously watered down until he might has well have been drinking fruit juice with an alcohol-like aftertaste. Jadzia visited him to talk about biochemistry and computer science projects, but the intense discussions usually left him exhausted.

Julian enjoyed the taste of food, but eating was a chore. Kira had brought him light Bajoran meals from the restaurant on the promenade that helped settle his stomach. Captain Sisko invited him to family dinners several times, but the large helpings of food always managed to make his stomach churn. In short, Julian's recovery was a period of trial and error aided by gestures of kindness from the people he cared for. After two weeks of recovery time in his quarters he started taking light duty. He could only complete paperwork on his PADD and give advice to his nursing staff. Sometimes he stayed too long at the infirmary and he had to be tucked into a biobed himself.

Everyone was kind and gentle. It was almost enough to make him forget about the hypo he had tucked away with his luggage. He had not given it more thought than the occasional fleeting fancy, but the mental weight of its existence was heavy. Miles had beamed aboard their supplies shortly after helping Garak to a cabin and seeing Bashir off to the infirmary. He had unwittingly returned Julian's luggage without a clue of what lay inside. Julian had thanked him, telling him that there were certain irreplaceable books in his satchel. The bag stayed in his quarters.

The doctor had addressed the topic to the most unlikely person on the station. He had been assisting with the Starfleet civilian physicals this month. Starfleet children of all ages were given vaccinations and examined for signs of illness and injury. After tending to young children all day, the appearance of the captain's son had taken him aback.

"Can I help you, Jake?" Julian asked him. He stood up from the chair he had been seated in beside the computer.

"I was told you were doing Starfleet civilian physicals? My dad said I should get it out of the way while you're still doing them."

Bashir frowned, trying to puzzle out what the simple statement meant. Why would he stop doing physicals? Did the Captain think that he was going to become too tired to finish them? Then he realized that he was being rude by keeping Jake standing silently in the doorway.

"Come in, come in. Take a seat up here." Bashir gestured over to the nearest biobed.

The doctor considered sitting down again, but he remembered that Jake might report back to his father about how he was managing his workload. He forced himself to remain standing. Julian started running the necessary tests. Jake fidgeted. He seemed tempted to say something, but the gangly teenager refrained from voicing his thoughts.

Finally, Bashir prompted him. "Is there something on your mind?"

"Could I ask you a research question?" Jake burst out.

Bashir shrugged. "Ask away. I'll try to give a good answer."

As the doctor pondered over his tricorder readings, Jake started to share what had been occupying his mind.

"I was curious if you could give me a medical insight on a character I'm developing. He's going to be a villain, but he's going through depression after a personal tragedy."

Bashir murmured, "Depression can be a debilitating mental disease. Your villain isn't going to be very villainous if he has it."

"Depression might be the wrong word, but he's lost his wife and daughter and he's planning to commit suicide at a later date in the story."

Julian's hands shook and he abruptly set down his tricorder on a monitor. "I hope you aren't basing his suicidal thoughts off of experience. If you are, I'm going to have to send for a counselo-"

Jake quickly shook his head, looking shocked at the conclusion Bashir had drawn. "No, I'm not writing this from experience. That's why I'm asking you about it. I thought that you might know how to describe what he's going through."

The doctor stared at him with wide disbelieving eyes.

"You know, because you're a doctor." Jake added.

Julian sighed. "Oh, I see. What did you want to know?"

The writer considered. "Can you think of any details you can give me about depressed patients? I don't mean details on anyone specifically. I just need a medical perspective on what can happen to someone going through that."

"Well…" Bashir put Jake Sisko's data into the computer as he talked. "They can have digestive disorders or stress induced headaches. Everyone's a little different in that respect. Suicidal cases can act very distant or despondent. Sometimes they go through physical pain that induces them to consider suicide."

Bashir's shoulders were tensing as he typed something into the computer data banks. "You can look this up on the station server. For right now, let's just finish your examination."

Jake nodded obediently; He waited while the doctor did a basic check of his reflexes and a visual examination in addition to the tricorder scan. The Captain's son was released with a clean bill of health. Bashir waited until Jake Sisko was gone before he gave his shift to Nurse Jabara. He raced to the lift on the promenade.

This was the first time he had done anything more than walk or stumble around since the illness and the burst of speed was doing hellish things to his heart rate. He got onto the lift with several startled Bajorans. He exited on the Habitat Ring level. The doctor darted through the hallways until he came to the entrance of his quarters. He keyed open the door and walked through his leisure room to his bedroom. He went over to his nearly unpacked travel bag and opened a hidden interior pocket. The hypospray was tucked away inside. The doctor lifted the hypo out with trembling hands and hesitated. The cold silver metal was weighty, yet familiar in his grip. Face expressionless, he walked out into his living room and towards the table and wall. He extended his arm.

There was a final click and a hum. The hypospray vanished into his replicator disposal unit. Julian exhaled heavily. The evidence of his weary heart and mind was gone. Ending his life had never been the answer to his problems. It would take time to get past this hollow feeling, but he was confident that he would find a way.

* * *

><p>"Julian!" Jadzia called to him from across the promenade. She was out of breath as though she had jogged there.<p>

"Jadzia!" The doctor beamed. He had just finished a shift at the infirmary. He was looking forward to some downtime in his quarters. However, if Jadzia wanted to have dinner at Quark's with the rest of their friends, then he would have no objections.

"I have two messages for you." She smiled.

Bashir cocked his head curiously to the side.

"The first one is that there's a very important staff meeting in half an hour."

The doctor did his best to hold back a groan. He just wanted some relaxation time. Was that too much to ask?

"And the second message?" Bashir waited for more bad news.

Jadzia's blue eyes twinkled. "Garak wants to see you in his shop right away."

The doctor appeared startled. "In his shop? For what?"

She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "He said it's a surprise."

Her mischievous attitude must have been rubbing off on him, for he replied, "Would you like to come too? I imagine that I might be a witness to more clandestine criminal acts."

She shook her head, smiling knowingly. "No, the invitation is for you. I don't think that he's going to use you as a spy again. No one's in his shop right now."

Julian tried not to look too put out.

"I'm sure he'll use you as a spy someday when you're feeling better." Jadzia assured him. "I should go. I have some things to prepare before the meeting."

The Trill vanished as quickly as she had come. Julian was left standing and staring at the tailor's shop from across the promenade. It looked as though Garak's shop was closed for the day. The interior was dark and the window sign was gone. He frowned.

The doctor dodged around a Bolian and a Betazoid to walk to the front of the shop. Before he came within several feet of the door, the Cardassian tailor stepped out.

"Ah, doctor! I was wondering when you were coming. I had hoped that Lieutenant Dax wouldn't forget our arrangement. Come in." The tailor turned the shop lights back on and opened the door for him.

"She left the timing late, but it is enough to prepare with." The alien ushered him inside.

"Prepare for what?" Bashir nearly stumbled as Elim pushed him through the open door.

"I see that she hasn't gotten around to explaining that either. At least that makes this much more interesting. I have a creation of mine to show you." Garak ushered him over to one of his clothing racks that displayed his custom pieces. These outfits were covered by stain-proof cloth bags. Names and numbers in Kardasi marked each outfit.

Elim reached for one and thrust it into the startled doctor's hands. "Tell me what you think of this."

Taken aback by his friend's abrupt demeanor, Julian took his time unwrapping the outfit. "I recognize the cloth. You were sewing this on Ferris VI."

The tailor waited patiently while Julian pulled it free. The human's jaw dropped as he pulled it out entirely into the light.

"A galabeya! I haven't seen one of these since I've left home on Earth. The cloth is a bit odd. It's normally muslin, but I would recognize that cut anywhere. Who's the lucky woman who commissioned it?"

Garak's expression suddenly became uneasy. "Why do you think that a woman commissioned it?"

"The embroidery! It's subtle, but it's traditional for-" Julian suddenly shook his head, eyes shut in dismay at his rudeness.

This galabeya was his size and in some of his favorite colors. The embroidery was lovingly done stitch by stitch by the tailor's careful hands.

"Oh Garak, I didn't mean-" He began.

The tailor snatched it out of his hands. "Oh, it's no matter. It's the wrong fabric and the embroidery is inappropriate. I'll have to make you another outfit some other time." He scrunched up the material in his hands as though about to toss it out.

"Garak, stop ruining it! I want it. I really do. I would be honored to wear it."

Elim's grip on the material went slack enough for Julian to grab it back. "It's spectacular. The embroidery is a touch I couldn't do without. I'm going to go try it on in one of your changing stalls."

He rushed to the back of the shop, giving the Cardassian a reassuring smile. Garak had likely created the garment from a description. There had been little to no access of Earth information on Ferris VI. The galabeya had come back as the most commonly worn outfit in Egypt. If a man wore a thoroughly embroidered one in this age, it would hardly be noteworthy.

Julian slipped behind the thick curtain and unzipped his uniform. He tugged the galabeya over his head and reveled in the airy feel of it. He kicked off his shoes and socks until he was standing there barefoot. He would need some sandals, but Garak would likely have some tucked away in his shop. Julian smoothed out the wrinkles that the tailor had put into the fabric. Bashir examined himself in the mirror. The result was unexpectedly very attractive. The galabeya flowed with his movements and the Cardassian-style designs felt almost…comforting.

Julian strode out from behind the curtain grinning. He flounced around and showed off the outfit like it was his most prized possession.

"I would never reject clothing made by a family member, and this is the best garment I've ever received. Thank you, Garak."

The Cardassian swallowed, remembering his pronouncement of loyalty to the doctor. It seemed that his trust was returned with as much sincerity. "You're welcome, doctor."

The doctor suddenly beamed. "This so called 'staff meeting' isn't a staff meeting, is it?"

"No."

Jadzia had undoubtedly thrown him another surprise party as a welcome back after his Ferris VI mission.

"The rumor is that Captain Sisko is going to give you a commendation for your hard work and dedication."

Bashir looked thoughtful. "Are my parents there?"

The Cardassian nodded. "And quite prepared to congratulate you and fuss over your health."

"I suppose we had better go. We shouldn't keep them waiting. I'll need some sandals to complete this."

With a flourish, the tailor presented them. The doctor smiled warmly. His hazel eyes had regained their eager sparkle that found interest in his surroundings.

"I couldn't have made it back without your help." Julian said softly.

Garak's steady gaze told him that the gratitude Bashir felt was mutual.

"It's time to go greet our public, doctor." The tailor reminded him.

Bashir nodded and hastily strapped on the footwear. They left the shop side by side.

* * *

><p>The End.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you for reading this fic!

I couldn't resist a little nod to Siddig's part in Cairo Time. He looked very nice in a galabeya.


End file.
